


Champions

by Bleiath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleiath/pseuds/Bleiath
Summary: Draco gets chosen to represent Hogwarts alongside Harry in the Triwizard Tournament, changing their relationship dramatically.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 28





	1. 01 - The Games Begin

Harry’s consciousness was returning to him. He could now feel the rise and fall of his lungs, the coldness of the floor on his back. His eyes slowly fluttered open and drunk in the brightness of the unknown place he woke up in.

“It worked!” Harry heard a happy sounding voice exclaim, but he was still too dazed to tell if the voice was far or near. He took a moment to collect his strength and with considerable effort, got on his hands and knees, and pushed himself off of the floor into a standing position.

Harry paused to examine his surroundings. He was in an empty and spacious room with stone walls and wooden pillars for support. In the corner there was a wooden staircase that led up to a door. In front of him was the only other person in the room, a disheveled haired, pale man who eyed Harry with a look that was both expectant and apprehensive.

“Bartemius? What happened to me? What wretched place am I?” Harry snarled at the man with a hoarse voice that wasn’t his own.

“My Lord, it really is you!” the man’s freckled face lit up with joy. He burst into tears and fell to his knees, prostrating himself before Harry. “I never lost hope, my Lord. Not even for one second.”

“I will explain everything as best as I can my Lord,” the man, Bartemius, said while getting up and struggling to keep his reverence in check, “but first allow me to fetch you some clothes. Winky!” He shouted and a small house-elf with long droopy ears apparated by his side. ”Go into Father’s closet and fetch clothes for our Lord.”

“At once Master,” the house-elf said and disapparated with a crack.

Harry looked down to find he was inhabiting an unfamiliar naked body. This was a dream, he now realised.

“No, you can start explaining why I am in a dirty basement now Bartemius,” Harry’s dream self said, voice dripping with disgust.

“Do you not remember my Lord? After your last mission you” Barthemius stopped and gulped, dreading the next word that would come out his mouth ”died.”

“That is not possible,” Harry snapped at Bartemius, who cowed.

“I don’t know how it happened either, no one does. Your body was found on the Po-” Bartemius was interrupted when Winky reapparated holding a pile of neatly folded clothes with a pair of boots on top.

“Put them on the table Winky,” Bartemius instructed and Winky hurriedly walked past the very naked Harry, averting her eyes. Harry turned around to look at a table he hadn’t noticed was there before. The pile of clothes the elf was holding was now sitting on it, but what attracted Harry’s attention were two halves of a cracked, oval, metal container that was beside the pile.

Harry grabbed one half in each hand and turned to Bartemius. “Are these what I think they are?” he said, incredulous.

“Yes, my Lord. That was your horcrux.”

“So it is true. I died?” Harry asked, more to himself than to his benefactor, who just nodded his head.

Harry gripped the cracked pieces of the horcrux tighter, anger flowing through his body. “How long?”

“Thirteen years ago, my Lord.”

”And just who, Bartemius, is my supposed killer?” Harry asked, voice dripping with hatred.

Bartemius opened his mouth and “Harry! Wake up mate, we’re going to be late” in Ron’s sweet voice came out of it.

Harry felt his body being gently shaken and he jolted awake to find Ron sitting on the edge of his bed. “Uhnn, what the hell Ron? It’s Sunday,” he protested with a groggy voice.

“Dumbledore has some big announcement he wants to make today, remember? Every single teacher has reminded us to ‘attend breakfast Sunday’ at least once last week.”

“Right, I’d forgotten,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes. He was still dizzy by the too lifelike dream he just had been woken from.

“Something wrong Harry?”

“No. I was just having a weird dream when you woke me.”

“Must have been some dream, even I woke up earlier than you today. Was it the wet kind?” Ron joked and playfully looked under Harry’s duvet which earned him a friendly punch in the arm.

“Shut up you git,” said Harry between chuckles. He looked around the dormitory to find all the other boys had left.

“Everybody’s gone to the great hall already. Want me to wait for you?”

”It’s okay, Ron. You can go ahead. I’ll freshen up and join you.”

“All right mate. I’ll save you a spot,” Ron said and left.

Harry stayed in bed a few seconds longer, willing the last of his sleepiness out of his body. He could still feel soreness on his hands from when he gripped the cracked horcrux in his dream. Never had Harry ever had a dream so intense and vivid in his life.

Better not dwell on it, he decided. Intense dreams are still just dreams. With a spring on his step Harry got out of bed, grabbed his clothes and headed to the showers.

• • • • • • ϟ • • • • • •

When Harry arrived at the great hall all of his housemates were already seated at the Gryffindor table. Their plates were still empty, which meant Dumbledore had not summoned the food yet and therefore Harry was not late, which was a relief. The great hall was packed, which was unusual for a Sunday morning. Even more unusual was the fifth long table which stood unpopulated in the middle of the hall.

Harry also noticed a new addition to the staff table. A severe-looking mustached man in a black suit was sitting on Dumbledore’s right, next to Professor McGonagall. On the man’s table was a big ornate cup, the kind one wins at a car race, in a glass display case. And on Dumbledore's left there were two empty seats.

Harry sat in the spot Ron had saved for Harry, in between himself and Hermione, and was greeted by his friends.

“What are we talking about?” Harry asked, eager to join the conversation he noticed had been going for a while.

“We are speculating about the announcement Dumbledore is set to make. We’re guessing it involves the extra table,” Hermione answered without looking up from the thin book she was reading.

“Whatever the announcement is, I hope he makes it soon. I’m bloody starving,” Ron complained.

“I heard from Hannah, who heard from Anthony, who overheard Pansy talking to Daphne that Hogwarts is set to create a fifth house,” Lavender squealed. “The colours of the new house are supposedly purple and white and their mascot is a scorpion.”

“A new house? When we are three weeks away from year’s end? That makes no bloody sense,” retorted Seamus.

“I have to agree with Seamus,” Harry said, “it makes no sense to create a fifth house now. Plus the four houses were created by the four founders of Hogwarts, there is no fifth founder.” 

It didn't escape Harry that another house would mean another Quidditch team and another match per season. Oliver would have absolutely loved that. The thought of his handsome former captain brought a smile to his lips. Harry missed him.

“Maybe they are creating a house to honour the Architect. I don’t know,” Lavender tried to counter, not sounding convinced by her own argument.

“I heard something similar,” started Neville. “Allegedly the Ministry decided the good old Sorting Hat is too old and not good enough to do its job so they are sending a new hat to Hogwarts that has a fifth house as an option. And worse, everyone is to be resorted, even seventh years, and there’s no guarantee you’ll be sorted in the same house again. I think that’s what Dumbledore will announce.”

The thought of being separated from his housemates created a pit on Harry’s stomach. He remembered how stubborn the Sorting Hat had been about placing him in Slytherin. What if the new hat was even more stubborn? Harry couldn’t imagine life without Ron and Hermione, and he didn’t want to. They would still be friends of course, but not having Hermione to study with in the common room, or goofing around with Ron before going to sleep every night just wouldn’t feel like Hogwarts anymore.

“Maybe this time Neville will be sorted into Hufflepuff where he belongs,” Dean teased their awkward friend, which made Neville look dejected.

“What do you think Dumbledore’s speech will be about Dean?” Seamus asked him.

“Probably something to do with inter-house unity. Dumbledore will come to the lectern and say that each week a different year of every house will have to sit together at the middle table, in an effort to lower bullying or whatever. So one week the first years of all houses will sit at the middle table, next week the second years, and so on.”

Harry considered the idea, he was friendly with Ernie and Terry and it would be nice to expand his friend circle, but having to sit with Malfoy for breakfast, lunch and dinner for an entire week seemed like a nightmare.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” Ginny said, “House rivalries are dumb anyway.” Her opinion didn’t surprise Harry. He had seen the girl pal around with a blonde Ravenclaw many times before..

“I heard Hogwarts will start accepting house-elf students and they’re going to have their own house,” Parvati said, with some dread in her voice.

“There's no way the Ministry would allow that.” Hermione said, lifting her head from her book. “It breaks Clause Three of their precious Code of Wand Use. Not that house-elves don’t deserve education because they do. The way they are treated is inhumane, their work conditions are analogous to slavery. I believe that ...

Hermione continued to rant but Harry tuned her out. He imagined Dobby in tiny Hogwarts uniforms, waving around a wand. Though he doubted Dobby would even need a wand, just training. He would become just like Professor Sinestra. Harry had been fascinated by how she could perform magic without a wand ever since he saw her wandlessly and nonverbally cast a repairing charm on an intricate mechanical scale of the solar system Crabbe had accidentally knocked down and made splatter all over the floor.

“A moment of your attention, please.” Dumbledore started his speech, bringing an end to Harry’s musings. The Headmaster had walked up to his owl lectern and was now waiting for everybody to quiet down before continuing to speak.

“Most of you have, no doubt, noticed the extra table and are abuzz with speculation about its purpose. That table is reserved for some very special guests,” Dumbledore said and half of the hall gasped and the other half broke into hushed whispers. Harry could swear he saw the Headmaster grinning behind all his beard. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the big double door in the beginning of the hall and it slid open to reveal a bevvy of people, half dressed in blue and half in red, standing on the other side. More gasps and whispers followed.

“You see,” Dumbledore continued, “this year Hogwarts has the honour of hosting a legendary, international event. The Triwizard Tournament!”

“I read about the Triwizard tournament in ‘Hogwarts : A History’. It’s a triennial tournament between Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons in which a single student from each school competes in a series of three tasks. The tournament was canceled after an incident when a rogue cockatrice that was part of a task harmed the judges,” Hermione hushedly told Harry and Ron.

“For those of you who do not know,” Dumbledore carried on with his speech, “the Triwizard tournament brings the continent’s three premier wizarding schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, together for a series of three contests.”

Hermione’s lips contorted into that self-satisfied grin she always has when she’s proven she’s right.

“Who cares about magical contests? Bring the food,” Ron grumbled, clutching his belly.

“The rules and specifics of the tournament will be explained in detail later. Now let’s give a warm welcome to the graduating class of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Headmistress Madame Maxime!” Dumbledore exclaimed and led the great hall into a round of applause for the Beauxbaton delegation, who had been waiting to be called in.

The Beauxbatons Headmistress, a gigantic woman with a chic dress and a bob cut, walked in the great hall and a procession of elegant older teens in baby blue uniforms followed her in orderly fashion. Madame Maxime was as tall as Hagrid, perhaps even taller. Harry wondered if she perhaps was also part giant. She walked up to the staff table, greeted Dumbledore and sat on the vacant seat on Dumbledore’s left.

Harry scanned the Beauxbatons students, who had now sat down at the middle long table. He noticed quite a few boys that were pleasing to the eyes. One in particular with curly blond hair and pretty angular face who was chatting with a silver haired girl was the most pleasing to Harry.

Thoughts of having a fling with a foreign cutie crept into Harry’s mind. He had never thought of himself as a ‘flings guy’, but Harry was also a frustrated, closeted, hormone-fueled teenage boy.

All Harry wanted was to snog a cute boy who wouldn’t go around the school saying the Boy Who Lived is gay. Perhaps he was being paranoid but Harry didn’t trust anyone at Hogwarts to not leak his secret, the last thing he needed was to give Malfoy more ammunition. So having fun with a pretty stranger he’s never going to see again after a week was quite an appealing idea to him. Not that Harry would ever have the courage to approach the boy, or any boy for that matter. He sighted and imagined the cute boy murmuring sweet nothings in French in his ear.

“She’s a veela,” Hermione whispered to Harry, knocking him out of his reverie.

“Huh?”

“The girl you and all the boys are staring at. She’s of veela descent, you can tell by the silver hair.”

“Right, yeah. She’s smoking,” Harry said with false conviction.

“She’s not “smoking” Harry. She’s hypnotizing you, it’s what a veela does.”

“Never mind her Harry. Hermione’s just jealous no boy stares at her,” Ron teased their friend, who rolled her eyes and huffed. “I hate you sometimes Ronald.”

“And now a round of applause for the graduating class of Durmstrang Institute and High Master Igor Karkaroff!” Dumbledore commanded and again the great hall broke into applause.

Durmstrang delegation walked in, led by High Master Karkaroff; a tall, thin man with a goatee. He was carrying a bejeweled box under his right arm. After him several students in red suits and thick fur coats marched into the hall in robotic fashion.

“It’s him! Viktor Krum!” Ron exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the famous seeker among the Durmstrang students. “I can’t bloody believe it. Victor is here in my school, in the same hall as me, breathing the same air.”

After greeting Karkaroff and showing him to his seat next to Madame Maxime, Dumbledore turned to the students. “Good morning, bonjour and добро утро to all.”

“It is mine and the Hogwarts family's immense pleasure and honour to host you. Albeit the time we are together is brief, I hope this tournament allows us to learn something from each other and create some unforgettable memories. I’m sure you are all tired and hungry, so I won’t bore you much longer. Let’s feast!” Dumbledore clapped his hands and the empty plates in front of them filled with food. The house-elves outdid themselves this time, during his four years in Hogwarts Harry had never seen this variety of food.

Ron, who had been complaining about hunger until minutes ago, was now ignoring the delicious dishes in front of him and was gazing dreamily at Victor Krum.

After a long bout of staring and not eating, Ron finally said something. “Krum’s going to win this tournament, I’m sure. He won the Golden Glove award.”

“Yeah, and lost the World Cup,” Hermione snarked.

“Because his teammates were dragging him down. Didn’t you say this tournament is solo?”

“Desist Weasley. Krum’s not gonna shag you, no matter how hard you stare at him,” Malfoy’s unpleasant voice sounded off from the Slytherin table.

“Sod off Malfoy,” Harry shot right back and glared at him.

“Why Potter, I’m looking out for you,” Malfoy said with mock shock. “The last thing you need is for your _boyfriend_ ,” he emphasized the word, “to put a pair on your head. You already resemble a grindylow so much.” Malfoy finished and his cronies broke into laughter at his stupid joke.

Harry was going to retort when Dubledore started talking again, drawing his attention.“Here to explain the rules of the Triwizard Tournament is Secretary of Diplomacy and International Affairs and my good friend, Barty Crouch,” Dumbledore clapped and moved aside so the mustached man Harry had noticed before could take the lectern.

“Thank you Albus,” Secretary Crouch cleared his throat before continuing. “Eternal glory!” he shouted, “that is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard tournament.”

“As well as the beautiful Triwizard Cup,” he flicked his wand and the display holding the cup floated to his side so he could show it to the students and then he floated it back to the table.

“And since this is a very special year, the first time the tournament is held in over two hundred years, the winner shall also receive a cash prize of 1000 galleons.” At the mention of the monetary reward most of the Great Hall perked up. Secretary Crouch smiled, knowing he had captured their interest now.

“But to win the Triwizard Tournament that student must accomplish three tasks. Tasks who will test the student’s magical prowess, powers of deduction and, of course, ability to cope with danger. And to select which student will represent each school we have ourselves an impartial judge. Igor if you will.”

Harry was confused. High Master Karkaroff would be selecting the champions? That hardly seemed impartial to him.

Karkaroff approached Secretary Crouch holding the bejeweled box he was carrying earlier. The Secretary touched the box with his wand making the lid open and retrieved from inside the box a large wooden cup.

“This is the Goblet of Fire,” Crouch said and the goblet he was holding with his left hand was set alight with a beautiful blue flame. “It shall determine who is worthy of becoming champion of each school.”

Secretary Crouch flicked his wand to levitate the box that held the Goblet and placed it a good distance from where he was standing. And then floated the Goblet from his hand to the top of the box.

“To enter yourself as champion, write your school and your name on a piece of parchment and put it in the goblet. Do not worry, the flame doesn’t burn,” Secretary Crouch chuckled, amused at his own non-joke.

“The Goblet will give us the names of the three it has judged worthy to represent their schools at dinner tonight. You have until then to put your name forward. ”

“And to prevent any underage wizard from falling in temptation..." Crouch stopped talking and said an incantation Harry never heard before and couldn’t quite make out. The Secretary pointed his wand to the floor and made a circular motion with his hand creating a circle of blue runes on the ground around the goblet. “...I have put in place an age line that will prevent anyone under seventeen from getting to the goblet.”

This was met with jeers and boos from the entire hall. “That’s rubbish,” George and Fred yelled in unison. Secretary Crouch shrugged. “Minister’s order.” He waited for the students to calm down before continuing.

“Lastly, I would like to warn you that the act of putting one's name on the goblet creates a binding contract, there's no backing out if you're selected as champion. So be sure that you're fully committed before entering in your name. Now that you've been properly warned, the Triwizard Tournament is officially open for entries.”

“Shame we’re not old to enter, eh mate?” Ron said.

Harry considered the idea briefly. He did like the excitement of playing quidditch, but quidditch was relatively safe and in quidditch he was part of a team. He was not about to undergo three deadly tasks by himself for some kudos. “Don’t quite see the appeal of becoming champion Ron. I’d rather not put myself in the path of an angry cockatrice.”

“Says the guy who killed a basilisk.”

“To save you sister, you prat; not for glory and some galleons.”

“You’ve been famous and loaded since you were a baby, you wouldn’t get it,” Ron dismissed Harry’s point. “I wish I could enter,” he said wistfully.

“I for one think Potter should be our champion,” Malfoy started, “Who better to represent the joke that is this school than a clown?”

“Aww what’s wrong Malfoy?” Harry replied with fake compassion, “Upset your Daddy can’t buy you the champion role, like he bought your seeker position?”

“As if I would care for some silly school competition,” Malfoy scoffed. “Some of us are well bred and don’t lack in prestige or money. But, alas, I don’t expect someone with your level of intelligence to understand that Potter. The filth you keep for company proves it,” Malfoy sneered and walked away with his posse before Harry could fire back.

“I almost wish that git would be champion,” Hermione said, “only for him to perform so bad he sets the new record for worst score.”

“That would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Ron said while laughing, then he suddenly paused and got up to talk to his brothers who were sitting quite a bit away. “Fred, do you still have that ink bottle?” Harry heard him say but he wasn’t focusing on Ron.

Hearing the word ‘dream’ got Harry thinking about the strange one he had earlier this morning. Specifically something that had been in the back of his mind, bothering him.

“Mione, do you know what a horcrux is?”

“Horcrux,” She repeated slowly, “I’ve never even heard that word before. What‘s a horcrux?”

“I don’t know either. I heard it in a dream, and I don't know if it’s a real word or some gibberish my brain invented.”

“I could look into it when I go to the library later if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just some nonse-”

Harry was interrupted by a sickeningly cute voice that said “I think you’d make a good champion Harry.” He turned around to find Colin staring at him with eyes full of adoration. Harry hadn’t even noticed when the boy had sat on Ron’s spot. 

“Erm, thanks Colin,” Harry said awkwardly, his cheeks getting redder by the second. He jumped in his chair when he felt Colin’s hand on his knee. “I mean, you defeated You Know Who. I can’t think of a better representative,” Colin moved a little closer, “To me, you’re the best thing about.”

“Oh wow, look at the time, I totally forgot Professor McGonagall had asked me to meet her at her office. I should get going. Say bye to Ron for me Hermione.” Harry swiftly got up from his chair and bolted away from his number one fan. He thinks he heard Colin say “But Professor McGonagall’s still eating breakfast,” but Harry could care less if his excuse stuck or not.

When Harry stopped running he was on the grounds. Out of breath, he sat by a tree to recuperate. He stayed in the tree’s shade a while, just breathing in and out. He was being stupid, Harry knew that. He longed for some modicum of love and yet when a reasonably good-looking boy showed interest in him, he literally ran away. He should walk back to the hall and talk to Colin, he shouldn’t be this scared. Harry turned to look at the path that led back to the castle. He got up and took two shaky steps forwards before sitting back down again. He should get over his fear, he knew someday he would, but not today.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

**It took me sooooo loooooong to finish this. But it is finally here. Thanks for reading. And please leave a comment if you did.**

**Also if you read that ‘so long’ to the melody of Haim’s Now I’m In It, you’re my new favourite person.**


	2. 02 - A Good Sign

Draco was sitting on the Slytherin table with his housemates having dinner. By now he had completely checked out of their conversation. They have been going on and on about the Triwizard Tournament and who will become champion; a word Draco had heard so many times during dinner alone it has lost its meaning and become a string of strange syllables.

Someone had left parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill on the Gryffindor table for people to use and either through peer pressure or just plain bandwagon following, half the Hogwarts graduating class volunteered themselves for slaughter. From Slytherin alone Warrington, Bole and Derrick had put their names on the goblet.

Warrington was the most eager of them, unbearably so. He only shut up about the tournament when some beautiful soul cast a Silencio on him. Draco had to admit even he had been excited about the tournament, if only just a little, but the novelty had worn off by around afternoon and now he was ready for their guests to leave.

It made zero sense to Draco for a tournament which attempts to promote international cooperation, to only have three participants. It would be way more logical for the entire school to participate. Pit the first years of the three schools against each other in age appropriate challenges in one day, then the second years the next day, and so on and so forth. Of course, supervising hundreds of children and teenagers would be a difficult task, but it would match the supposed spirit of the tournament better than how it currently works. Whoever came up with this tournament had a fetish for the number three, Draco reckoned.

To him the best thing about the tournament has been the diversified meals they had been served today. Finally the kitchen elves cooked something that’s not pumpkin-based, no doubt to make Hogwarts’ foreign guests feel at home. The crème brûlée he had for dessert in particular Draco found delicious, it tasted just like Dobby’s. The Malfoy’s new elf, Marty, is perfectly nice and in a lot of ways better than his predecessor but Draco still missed Dobby in all of his bonkers glory.

“A moment of your attention please,” Secretary Crouch called out. He was next to the goblet, inside the rune circle. “The champions will be revealed soon. Would anyone still like to enter the tournament? This is your last chance.”

A short Durmstrang girl with black wavy hair sheepishly raised her hand. “Имате ли пергамент и перо?” she asked her colleagues, who all shook their heads no.

“We have parchment here, if you’re looking for it,” a Gryffindor boy with mousy hair said and made a writing motion with his hand so the girl would get the message. She walked over to him.

“Look at this beautiful display of cooperation, this is what this event is all about,” Crouch beamed at them.

“I concur,” spoke Dumbledore from his throne, “Ten points to Gryffindor!”

Draco rolled his eyes. The geezer did not even attempt to hide his bias these days. A Gryffindor could sneeze right on his face and Dumbledore would award the student points for having such a good aim.

It bothered Draco. Dumbledore is a big war hero, he's the man who killed Grindelwald, he should be more formidable. Perhaps he once was and heading Hogwarts for decades rotted his brain and made him the loon he is today.

The guest headmasters weren't terribly impressive either. The Beauxbatons headmistress is a disgusting half-giant and the Durmstrang High Master, who at least looks the part of a dignified educator, is actually an uncoordinated buffoon. Earlier this afternoon Draco had seen Karkaroff speed-walk down the path that leads to the boathouse so clumsily he tripped three times and bumped so hard into a Hufflepuff girl she fell on her bum. He didn’t even stop to berate her for being in his way.

The Durmstrang girl, who now had written her entry slip, awkwardly approached Crouch and the goblet, then threw her slip into the blue flames and darted back to her seat.

“Anyone else?” Crouch asked and scanned the hall for more wannabe champions, “No? Then I don’t see the point in delaying the champion sorting any longer. I know you are all very anxious, and frankly, so am I.”

“Yes please, put an end to this already,” Draco muttered under breath.

“This can go,” Crouch made an X in the air with his wand and the circle of blue runes dissipated. He then pointed his wand to the goblet and said “Eligo,” the goblet’s flame changed from blue to a deep crimson; the flame burst upward into a tall pillar of fire and shot out a tiny slip of parchment which floated right to Secretary Crouch’s hand.

“Let’s see,” he examined the slip, “Our first champion is from the Durmstrang Institute. Congratulations Mister Victor Krum!”

Krum raised both arms in celebration and his colleagues around him clapped, hollered and patted him on the back. He got up and joined Crouch, who was beckoning him over.

Draco had talked to Krum briefly during the afternoon and was left disappointed. Krum’s English is very poor so all of Draco’s sentences were met with a monosyllabic answer, a head nod, or a grunt. His flattery seemed to either not be understood or ignored completely. And most frustrating of all, the Malfoy name seemed to mean nothing to Krum. All around it had been a horrendously dull conversation. That was Draco’s ultimate judgement of the seeker superstar, dull. Good thing Krum was handsome, at least Draco’s eyes were engaged when they talked.

The goblet turned crimson a second time and released another slip to Crouch. “The champion from the Beauxbaton Academy of Magic is Miss Fleur Delacour!”

The girl, who Draco had guessed was part veela judging by how some of his housemates went gaga at the mere sight of her, smiled brightly. Most of her female colleagues frowned, or smiled weakly and then frowned. Some even started to openly cry in frustration, though it didn’t seem to faze Delacour in the slightest. Her biggest supporter was the cute blond boy she was sitting next to. He hugged Delacour warmly and when he let go, she left her seat and joined Krum and Crouch.

The goblet repeated its performance a third time and Crouch snatched the slip from the air. “And last but not least the champion of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft is...” Secretary Crouch paused for dramatic effect. In his peripheral Draco could see Warrington with closed eyes and fingers crossed mouthing “Cassius Warrington, Cassius Warrington”.

“...Mister Draco Malfoy!” Crouch announced.

The Great Hall fell silent.

Then Draco’s friends erupted in cheers. “Way to go Draco!” Zabini congratulated, Crabbe and Goyle patted him on the back, Parkinson gave him a quick side hug and kissed his cheek, even Theo smiled fondly at him and clapped. None of his housemates could tell how bewildered Draco was at this turn of events because he did not let it show on his face or demeanor. He simply got up and confidently strutted to join his fellow champions.

He would worry about finding, and punishing, the culprit for his predicament later. Right now Draco’s head was preoccupied with thinking of a way to turn this situation around. As confident as he was in his abilities Draco had no intention of putting himself in harm’s way for a meager thousand galleons, an ugly cup and so-called “eternal glory”. Perhaps he could lie and frame Roger Davies. Ravenclaw is dangerously close to overcoming Slytherin for the House Cup and their captain had thrown a hissy fit after they lost spectacularly to Slytherin during their quidditch match. No, he had to pin the blame on a Gryffindor, Snape would back up his lie without question then.

“Barty, I believe there’s been a” started Dumbledore but he was interrupted when the goblet’s flame turned crimson once again and released another slip of parchment, which floated to the palm of a perplexed Secretary Crouch. “This can't be right,” he mumbled.

“It seems like the goblet has decided to give us another Hogwarts champion,” he announced and Draco could hear some gasps from the audience.

Draco sighed with relief. His salvation had arrived. Whatever prank someone tried to pull on him had failed, the goblet had seen through it. Now the rightful champion would be called and Draco would always be able to brag to his friends that the goblet chose him, but he was robbed of the chance to compete. An ideal scenario if there ever was one. Draco smiled. Perhaps Warrignton had been chosen after all.

“Mister Harry Potter, would you please join us,” Crouch called.

Draco's smile grew wider. This was even better. Of all people, Potter would take his place. Draco was very much looking forward to watching him suffer through the three tasks. Maybe Potter would even die.

Potter awkwardly walked up to join Draco and the others after being pushed by that mudblood girl of his. He looked so out of place standing next to Draco and the others.

“Well isn’t this a surprise?” Secretary Crouch asked rhetorically with some amusement in his voice. He turned to the audience. “Everyone, please give a-”

“Excuse me Barty,” Dumbledore interrupted, “but it seems we have some issues to discuss. Champions follow us.”

Dumbledore got up from his throne and entered a chamber behind the staff table, along with the foreign headmasters. The champions and Crouch followed them. While walking around the table to reach the chamber Draco was so immersed in his fantasy of Potter being bisected by an acromantula he missed the worried glares most of his professors sent his and Potter’s way.

“What are you smiling for Malfoy? Was this your doing?” Potter hissed in Draco’s ear.

Draco smirked, "I have no idea what you’re talking about Potter." 

As soon as the chamber doors closed Madame Maxime started to complain. “This is unacceptable Albus!” she yelled at Dumbledore, “Your school produced not one, but two cheaters. We need to cancel this sorting and try again.”

“Absolutely not!” High Master Karkaroff protested, “That would be unfair to Victor! And your girl.”

“Sirs, and madame,” Draco started, “I think that our course of action is clear. The goblet made a mistake when it chose me, which it then corrected by choosing Potter as my replacement. It is clear he's the actual champion.”

“Hey wait a minute Malfoy, I nev-” Potter tried to butt in but Secretary Crouch cut him.

“You misunderstand lad,” he corrected Draco, “the goblet has not chosen a replacement for you, it has chosen _two_ champions. You’ll both have to compete.”

The realization of what Crouch’s words meant slowly dawned on Draco and his face went from a grin to a far off stare. “Wh..what?” was the only thing he managed to croak out.

“I didn’t put my name on the goblet, Professor. You have to believe me,” Harry pleaded to Dumbledore.

“I do Harry, but I’m afraid whether you put your name or not does not matter. A magical contract has been signed. You do not have a choice. Neither of you do,” Dumbledore explained.

How did this happen? Potter was meant to be the champion. Potter was meant to make a fool of himself and give Draco material for years worth of jokes and insults. How did Draco get roped along? He could die in the tournament. Actually, really, bloody die for real. Or worse, flop and become a laughing stock. Draco’s breathing started to become ragged and his palms got sweaty. He felt like the room was spinning.

“Madame, vous ne pouvez pas laisser ces petits garçons participer au tournoi. Ils vont se blesser," the Beauxbaton girl implored her headmistress. Draco would have berated the half-breed for calling him a little boy, but he was too busy freaking out.

“C'est hors de mon contrôle maintenant,” Madame Maxime lamented.

“So are we all in agreement then?” High Master Karkaroff asked.

“More competition. Good,” Krum said as if that settled the matter.

"Thank you for your contribution Victor,” Karkaroff pretended to care, “May we return to the Hall now?” Secretary Crouch and Dumbledore nodded, the last one reluctantly so.

“I do not agree with this, but I see that I’ve lost,” Madame Maxime complained one last time.

“Yes, very well,” Dumbledore opened the chamber doors. The headmasters returned to their seats and Crouch and the champions circumambulated the staff table to return to their spot next to the goblet.

While walking Potter noticed Draco’s panicked expression and couldn’t help himself. “What’s wrong Malfoy? Afraid you’ll lose?” he teased, and just like that the world returned to its axis. Draco pushed his worries to the back of his mind and got his fake confidence back on.

“The only thing I’ll be losing Potter,” he pronounced the boy’s name with extra venom, “is my time. This tournament is as good as won.” He spat and did a damn good job of sounding like he meant it.

“Seems to me like what you’re losing is your grip on reality Malfoy.”

When they arrived back to their place Secretary Crouch addressed the audience. “Sorry about that everyone,” he cleared his throat, “Now please give a big round of applause to your four champions.”

The Great Hall gave what could only be described as confused applause. Most people had a look that said “Wait, is this right?” while clapping. They were probably wondering why there were four champions. Most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws made a point not to clap, some even booed. Potter looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

Suddenly a flash hit Draco’s eyes. That Gryffindor midget, Creevey, had taken a picture of them with that blasted camera of his. Draco made a mental note to destroy it later.

“Now some instructions are in order,” Crouch turned to the champions, “Your first task will take place this Tuesday at exactly fourteen hundred at a secret location on the Hogwarts campus. Your headmasters are in charge of escorting you the day of the event, so don’t worry about how you’ll get there. Champions are not permitted to receive assistance from professors and for this task the only magical equipment allowed is your wand.”

“And to help you on the task, we have a clue. Of sorts.” Crouch flicked his wand, and a thin purple briefcase that was sitting on his vacant seat on the staff table floated to his hand.

He opened the briefcase and Draco could see three metal cylinders inside. “Go ahead, take one.” Delacour, who was closest to Secretary Crouch, grabbed hers, then Krum his, but when Draco moved to take his Crouch stopped him.

“We did not anticipate a fourth champion so you boys will have to share. It’s enchanted against doubling charms, before you ask” Crouch said to him and Potter, took the cylinder himself and handed it to Draco.

He started to examine the cylinder while Potter watched. There was a circular glass on one end of the cylinder and a smaller one at the other. Draco grabbed the smaller glass and pulled, it slid to reveal another section of the cylinder, much smaller than the other. He continued to pull and another section, this time a little bigger appeared between them. He continued to pull until a fourth and final section, larger than the one behind it and smaller than the one in front of it, slid into place.

He could see now that the cylinder was actually a collapsible telescope. Something the other champions had already figured out.

“The telescope is a puzzle.” Secretary Crouch clarified, “It'll give you a big clue to what the first task is, if you manage to solve it that is.”

“You don’t have to though. You can go at the task blind, but having some information might help you prepare and increase your chances of performing well. I’ll give you a hint: Look at the stars,” Crouch told them pointing upward with both hands, then he walked away to speak with Dumbledore.

Draco looked at the telescope in his hand contemptuously. Stupid Ministry and its stupid little games. Draco sighted. He should get a move on, he was a player now.

Draco approached Professor Sinistra, who was sitting at the right end of the staff table. She looked bored in her dazzling purple robes and hat. “Professor, could you please unlock the Astronomy Tower? You heard Secretary Crouch, we have to look at the stars.”

“Of course dear,” she yawned, “Follow me.” She got up from her seat and started the long, long trek to the Astronomy Tower, with Draco in tow.

His tower idea was really to get as far from his housemates as possible. They would no doubt pester him with questions and flattery and Draco did not have the stomach to entertain them right now.

When he passed between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, he did not meet their expectant looks and looked at the ceiling instead. It displayed the emblems of the three schools rather than the customary night sky. Draco had missed when that change happened, perhaps they have been there since morning. He had also missed Potter, who was currently running up to him.

"Where are you going Malfoy? That's my telescope too,” Potter whined.

“To the Astronomy Tower.”

“Why?”

“To look at the stars Potter. Isn’t it obvious?”

Potter shut up, probably because he had to admit going to the Astronomy Tower was actually a good idea. The boys were silent as they followed Professor Sinistra. For most of the way. While walking the endless spiral staircase that led up to the tower Potter started to complain again.

“We could have watched the stars just as fine from the ground, Malfoy.”

“If you want to leave Potter, feel free. I did not invite you to follow me.”

“My telescope, which you are holding, did.”

“Five points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin,” Professor Sinistra said without looking back at them, “I won’t unlock the tower if you keep bickering, I’m not even supposed to be helping. You are both champions boys, meant to represent the best Hogwarts has to offer. It’s unbecoming to snipe at each other.”

“Sorry Professor,” Draco and Potter said at the same time.

When they finally arrived at the top Professor Sinistra said the password, “Halley,” and the old wooden doors to the astronomy classroom parted open. “The room is yours boys. Do you know exactly what you’re looking for?”

“No clue. Mister Crouch simply said to look at the stars,” Potter answered.

Professor Sinistra hummed to acknowledge his reply then suddenly focused her attention on something next to her feet. “Who left you down here?” the professor asked the model of Venus who was laying on the ground. She made a tiny gesture with her left hand and Venus floated back to its place on the orrery. She then went to her table to organize some papers.

Draco approached the balcony and made the mistake of looking down. The vertigo made him instantly jolt backwards and he hit Potter.

“Do you not know what personal space is Potter!?” Draco snapped.

“How was I supposed to know you would walk backwards Malfoy!?”

“Boys!” Professors Sinistra reprimanded them from her table, “What have we talked about?” 

“Here’s how it's going to work Potter. I’ll use the telescope first then if I'm not done in an hour, you can have your turn. Now, would you kindly go away?”

Potter huffed, but went somewhere else in the classroom to mess with some lunar charts. Finally Draco had some peace and quiet. He put the telescope to his right eye and started searching the sky.

The gorgeous night sky above him and the gentle breeze on his face reminded Draco of stargazing with his Mother when he was little. They used to lie on a silk blanket in the garden till past midnight watching the stars while Narcissa would teach Draco about the cosmos. 

She seemed to know everything, the orbit of every planet, the story of how each constellation got its name. She said astronomy was very important to the House of Black. Most Blacks were named after celestial bodies, a tradition his mother had continued when naming Draco, and all Blacks were supposed to have the name of each star which composes all eighty-eight constellations memorised. Before coming to Hogwarts Draco had already learned everything he’d had to study in his first three years of astronomy.

Draco frowned, thinking about his Mother made him realize he would have to owl his parents to let them know about the tournament sooner or later. He didn’t want to, of course, but they would be very upset if they missed their son competing. He could feel his anxiety creeping up again. Draco started to move the telescope around faster. The bloody thing had better do something soon.

“Professor,” Draco heard Potter’s grating voice in the distance, “how do you do that if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Do what dear?”

“Magic without a wand. I know it’s possible to do magic without speaking but you’re the only person I’ve seen performing magic without a wand, besides house-elves.”

“Where I come from it’s the only way to do it. We don’t use wands, staves or any other conduit in Zerzura. The school we go to, Uagadou, teaches us to perform magic using only our being.”

“Why are we taught to perform magic with wands here at Hogwarts then? Isn’t it inferior?”

“Not really, one is not more powerful than the other. And there are advantages to using a wand. Spells can be learned faster and some are significantly less dangerous to perform for the first time. And there’s also the societal factor.”

“What do you mean Professor?”

“If a wizard in this country breaks the law, you can take away his wand and he will be no different from a muggle. He can be detained and imprisoned. Capital punishment is very common in Zerzura,” she said the last sentence sadly. The sorrow in her voice made Draco wonder if Professor Sinistra had lost a loved one to Zerzura’s justice system. 

“Hogwarts doesn’t have an exchange programme with Uagadou so you’re out of luck Mister Potter. If you really, really want to get rid of your wand forever there is a potion that achieves the same effect of years of training, but all the main ingredients are illegal.”

Father had told him their Lord was so adept at magic he did not have to use a wand. Perhaps he had taken that potion, Draco wondered. Not that it did Him any good. He’s still a rotting corpse now. It’s so like Potter, he can kill the most powerful wizard of all time as an infant, but take Draco’s place as champion? Oh no, he can’t do that. Useless git.

“I quite like my wand,” Potter laughed, “I was just curious.”

“You should visit Zerzura, dear. I have a feeling you would love it.”

“Do you miss your homeland Professor?”

“Some nights more than others,” she sighted, “but I could never go back, Hogwarts is my home now.”

Draco didn't know how much more time he could bear to spend moving the telescope from star to star. Eventually, by a stroke of luck, he pointed the telescope between the two bears and found the tail of his namesake sandwiched between them. He walked back a step, moved the telescope slightly up and got the entire Draco constellation into view. Not a second more passed and the constellation’s reflection on the telescope grew bright for a moment and in its place on the lens was left an elaborate drawing of a dragon.

Could this be it? Dragons? Of course it is. The Ministry could not bother less if someone died in its daft games. They are going to face dragons Tuesday, Draco was sure.

Draco grabbed his wand and pointed to the lens. “Scourgify,” he said quietly and the drawing was wiped off. He smiled, with the ink gone forever Potter would be looking at the stars in vain.

“I tire of this,” Draco announced and did a fake yawn, “You can have your turn now Potter, I’m going to sleep.” He waited for Potter to approach him and handed the telescope over without meeting his gaze. He couldn’t let Potter see his smile or he would have suspected something.

He looked back one last to the constellation that shared his name. Draco chose to believe its small appearance on the tournament was a sign of good things to come. He climbed down the Astronomy Tower feeling a little better about the future than he was feeling when climbing up.

**\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

**Bleiath's Comment: Marty is a reference to the house-elf from[Harry Potter and The Mysterious Thief](https://rivarsstudio.itch.io/hpatmt). Have any you, my dear readers, played that Drarry fan game or its predecessor, [Harry Potter and the Transformency Spell](https://rivarsstudio.itch.io/hpatts)? They are worth checking out if you're a big shipper.**


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